Harry Potter and the Second War
by AHighAndLonesomeSound
Summary: What if, when Harry and Hermione traveled back in time in Prisoner of Azkaban, they had captured Peter Pettigrew and brought him to justice? With one simple act, history changes, but there is still the Second Wizarding War to be fought, and history has a great weight of inertia. What lies in store for The Boy Who Lived and his friends? AU from near the end of Ch. 21 of PoA onwards.
1. Prologue Part One

**Harry Potter and the Second War**

_Shoot the dictator and prevent the war? But the dictator is merely the tip of the whole festering boil of social pus from which dictators emerge; shoot one, and there'll be another along in a minute. Shoot him too? Why not shoot everyone and invade Poland? In fifty years', thirty years', ten years' time the world will be very nearly back on its old course. History always has a great weight of inertia._

Terry Pratchett – _Lords and Ladies_

**Note: This story was inspired by a comment on Wormtail's escape in **_**Prisoner of Azkaban**_** on the Wallbangers/Literature page of tvtropes. The commenter said "It seems like the author realized she wrote an end to her seven part series in the third instalment and had to use an Only the Author Can Beat Them Now to get out of it." This got me wondering about what might have happened had Pettigrew been captured that night, and the end result is this.**

**This story is, therefore, something of a thought experiment. It's also a challenge for me. Everything in the books that occurs chronologically before this story takes over from PoA (at the point where Harry is explaining that he thinks his father drove the Dementors away) is canon for the purposes of this story. Not just the events of **_**Stone**_**, **_**Chamber**_**, and **_**Prisoner**_**, but also stuff that happened earlier in the timeline but is revealed later in the series (Snape's schooldays, the Horcruxes, etc.). So, the challenge for me is to write a story that is true to the Potter universe, or the Potter universe as it could so easily have been, but is still full of twists and unexpected revelations. It's going to be a long ride: buckle up.**

**As well as that comment on tvtropes (and, indeed, tvtropes as a whole. It's a brilliant site.) and obviously the Harry Potter books and films, this story has been inspired by the works of Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, China Miéville, Jorge Luis Borges, Italo Calvino, Greg Bear, Ursula K. Le Guin, William Shakespeare, Kurt Vonnegut, Dr Michio Kaku, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and many others. Not to mention too many fanfic writers and sites to mention (although special mention to The Sugar Quill for getting me into fanfic all those years ago, **_**Doctor Who**_**, and all the music I love. That may seem like a ridiculous list, but it **_**may**_** all start to make sense as the story progresses. No promises.**

Prologue – Taken at the Flood (Third Year)

_There is a tide in the affairs of men_

_Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;_

_Omitted, all the voyage of their life_

_Is bound in shallows and in miseries_

_On such a full sea are we now afloat;_

_And we must take the current when it serves,_

_Or lose our ventures_

William Shakespeare – _Julius Caesar_

Part One – The Night Before

_Tonight's the kind of night_

_Where everything could change_

Noah and the Whale – 'Tonight's the Kind of Night'

_Not even the Gods can change the past._

Agathon

_He had added "But when you do, I expect Historical Imperative will win."_

Terry Pratchett, _Night Watch_

"I know it sounds mad, but I swear it looked like my father."

Harry glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. As he had expected, she was watching him with concern and just a tinge of fear.

"But Harry, your father's –"

"– dead. I know. Maybe I _am_ going mad, I mean, it's not like tonight has been particularly sanity-inducing."

He stared out at the Whomping Willow to avoid meeting Hermione's eye.

"First, I find out _Scabbers_ is the man who betrayed my parents and Sirius Black, my godfather, is innocent. I'm offered a chance to leave the Dursleys forever, then my favourite teacher transforms into a werewolf, the traitor escapes, and we get attacked by about a billion Dementors. Someone who looks like my dad – and bear in mind it was dark and I was about to pass out – drives them off, and I wake up in the Hospital Wing to be told that Snape's a hero and Sirius has been condemned to a fate worse than death. _Then_ Dumbledore gets the two of us to go back in time so that we can fix everything. If I'm not mad, it must be some sort of miracle."

He turned to face Hermione, who gave him a weak smile but still looked worried. However, before he could say anything else, she gasped and pointed over his shoulder.

"It's us," she whispered, "we're coming out of the passage."

Harry watched as Lupin stiffened and a thought struck him.

"Hermione," he hissed, "we have to move!"

"I told you Harry, we can't interfere! We can't risk being seen! Why –"

"– If we stay here, Lupin's going to run right at us. Not only will we be seen, we'll probably be _killed_."

Hermione paused mid-harangue and looked around at the shadowy figures beneath the Whomping Willow.

"Alright," she whispered, and pointed towards Hagrid's house, but as Harry began to follow her, stumbling across roots and trying to avoid stepping on fallen twigs for fear of revealing their position, he glanced back towards the bizzare scene.

What he saw made him stop so suddenly that Buckbeak almost crashed into his back. The fully-transformed Lupin was disappearing into the Forest a good hundred yards from the point where Harry now stood. Of greater interest, however, was the small shape darting through the grass towards Harry. It was Wormtail.

As the rat drew closer, Harry raised his wand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione turn around to ask why he wasn't following her. He aimed at the oblivious, fleeing traitor and muttered the incantation for the Full-Body Bind, ignoring the look of horrified realisation on his friend's face and her warning cry. Pettigrew froze, the momentum of his headlong rush causing his helpless form to skid across the ground towards Harry, who picked him up and ran after Hermione.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" she hissed. "You know we can't interfere!"

Harry didn't answer until they were safely inside Hagrid's. Buckbeak seemed pleased to be back there, but Harry didn't wait to enjoy the relative safety of his surroundings. He turned to Hermione, raising a hand to forestall the lecture he could see building on her lips.

"Listen," he said, "Pettigrew was going to see me anyway. Under the circumstances, why would I pass up a chance to bring him to justice and clear Sirius' name? Besides, if we're not supposed to interfere, what are we doing here? Dumbledore said we were to save 'two innocent lives': Buckbeak and Sirius. How are we supposed to do that without interfering?"

Hermione bit her lip, half-convinced, so he pressed on.

"Look at what happened with Buckbeak. What did we hear earlier? The swish and thud of an axe and the sound of Hagrid howling. What did we see after we rescued Buckbeak? _A chain of events that led to those sounds, but without Buckbeak's death_."

She nodded, looking intrigued.

"What did we see happen to Wormtail earlier? He transformed, ran off towards the Forest, and nothing had been seen or heard of him by the point when we went back in time. That doesn't mean he couldn't turn up again –"

"– after that point on the timeline!" interjected Hermione. "That makes sense!"

"What happens stays happened," said Harry. "Whatever we do _now_ already happened _earlier_, we just didn't know it at the time! Don't you see, we aren't actually changing the past at all!"

Hermione's frown made him wonder if he had overdone it, but he was soon reassured.

"Muggle scientists have developed a concept they call a 'stable time loop' that is pretty much the scenario that you're describing," she said, gazing at him thoughtfully. "That sounds convincing."

Harry was slightly surprised, as she seemed to be more convinced by his hastily-improvised theory than he was, but he did not have time to ponder this turn of events, because his thoughts were derailed by the sound of Sirius moaning in fear as the Dementors closed in on him.

He paused for a moment, irresolute, and then said; "I'm going outside. I want to see whoever it was that saved our lives earlier."

Hermione nodded.

"Be careful," she whispered, and he smiled, squared his shoulders and stepped outside into the night.

He jogged over to the shore of the lake, stopping directly across the water from the moaning form of Sirius, and crouched behind a bush, watching as his and Hermione's past selves tried to fight off the Dementors, wincing as Hermione collapsed and he fell to his knees.

"Come on, whoever you are…" he muttered.

It was almost time, he could see that his past self was about to succumb, and there was still no sign of their rescuer. Suddenly, he realised why. His own words, spoken only a few minutes previously, echoed through his brain.

_Whatever happens stays happened… Whatever we do _now_ already happened_ earlier_, we just didn't know it at the time…_

"This is _really_ weird."

With those words, not the most auspicious of battle cries, he threw himself out from behind the bush, crying "Expecto Patronum!" as he did so.

A silver shape emerged from his wand, charged across the lake and scattered the Dementors. It wheeled around and cantered back to Harry, its hooves making no impression on the grass. It was a stag, and for the third time that night understanding blossomed inside Harry. All four Marauders had returned to Hogwarts tonight.

"Prongs?" he whispered, and the Patronus gracefully inclined its antlered head. As he reached out to touch it, however, it dissolved, and in the shadows behind where it had stood he could see Hermione, watching him with an expression of mingled frustration and awe.

"How did you do that?"

Noticing that Snape was beginning to stir at the other side of the lake, Harry ducked back down behind the bush and beckoned for her to do the same.

"I know this is going to sound mad, but I knew I could do it because I'd already done it three hours ago. Whatever happens stays happened, remember?"

"This is insane," she replied. "Completely and utterly insane. Not to mention quite frightening."

Harry nodded. Across the lake, Snape was disappearing up the slope towards the castle, levitating four stretchers in front of him.

"Now all we can do is wait."

"For how long?" asked Hermione.

"Until Macnair comes down to get the Dementors. By then Sirius should be in Flitwick's office, so we can fly up, rescue him, and show Wormtail to Dumbledore and Fudge."

They could only have waited for a few minutes, but it seemed like they had been sitting there for hours by the time they finally saw Macnair emerge from the castle. As he strode down towards the gates, they ran back to Hagrid's, tugged the reluctant Buckbeak out into the vegetable patch and climbed on his back. Harry paused, unsure how to spur the hippogriff into flight. Buckbeak, however, seemed to understand his intentions: before Harry could decide what to do next he had taken off.

They soared up towards the window of Flitwick's office (Harry steered gently while Hermione clung tightly to his waist, muttering variations on the theme of "I really don't like this…"). Luckily she had regained some of her composure by the time they reached their destination, and was able to reach over and magically unlock the window.

Sirius looked at them in shock.

"What the – how did you –"

"We don't have time to explain," hissed Harry. "Hop on and hold tight."

He guided Buckbeak down to the ground and climbed off, hearing Hermione's sigh of relief as she dismounted behind him.

"I'm impressed, Harry, "said Sirius. "Impressed and eternally grateful. You are truly your father's son. Thank you."

Harry grinned.

"Oh, I haven't finished yet. I've got Wormtail." He paused, letting this sink in.

"You fly off, but stay near Dumbledore's tower. The two of us will show Pettigrew to Fudge and Dumbledore, and then the Ministry'll have to pardon you!"

"Really?" asked Sirius, with a note of incredulity in his voice. "You caught the rat?"

"Really, we did. And trust me, you don't want to know how."

"Trust him," chimed in Hermione, "you don't want to know. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it, and I _did_ it."

A grin flickered across Sirius' face.

"Fine, I'll see you both soon. And I can never thank you enough for what you're doing tonight."

"Just go," said Harry. "Stay out of sight until this is over. We have to get back _now_ or it'll be too late."

Sirius nodded, raised his hand in a light-hearted salute, and took off into the night sky.

Harry and Hermione ran down the last stretch of the corridor that led to the Hospital Wing, watching as Dumbledore locked their past selves in. Hearing their footsteps, he turned around.

"Well?"

"We did it," panted Harry. "Sirius is flying around your tower on Buckbeak as we speak, and guess who I caught?"

"Who?" asked the Headmaster.

Wordlessly, Harry pulled the paralysed rat out of his pocket.

"Is this Peter?"

"Yes, Professor. There's a spell you can do, Professor Lupin and Sirius did it earlier, that makes him –"

"– revert to his true form. I know. Well done, you two. Very well done indeed." Dumbledore looked delighted and more than a little impressed. "This changes everything…"

He broke off at the sound of Snape bellowing "POTTER!" somewhere in the distance. A tap of his wand unlocked the doors of the Hospital Wing, and he gestured for Harry and Hermione to follow him inside and sit down on their beds.

"No doubt Madam Pomfrey is impatient to see to you," he said, and Harry noticed his beard twitching, "but it seems that your treatment will have to be postponed for a little while longer."

Harry could hear footsteps approaching and the sound of Fudge and Snape arguing.

"Come Severus, be reasonable! Harry has been in the Hospital Wing with Dumbledore. How could he possibly have helped Black to escape?"

"You don't know him, Minister! The boy is perfectly capable of interfering!"

"I just hope we catch Black before he gets too far. Tonight has been a complete fiasco for the Ministry."

The two men strode into the room. Fudge looked worried and angry, but Snape looked absolutely livid.

"Cornelius, Severus," said Dumbledore, inclining his head gravely at the Minister, "I am pleased to tell you that thanks to Harry and Hermione, I have discovered the truth about tonight's events."

"Which is?" hissed Snape.

"This," said Dumbledore, picking up the frozen Scabbers and pointing his wand at him. He lifted the Body-Bind curse and the rat started squealing and writhing, trying to escape.

"Dumbledore, what in Merlin's name are you doing?" interjected Fudge.

By way of reply, the Headmaster raised his wand. There was a flash of light, and Wormtail crashed to the floor and began to turn back into a man. Fudge and Snape watched with horror and growing realisation as the writhing rat blossomed into its true shape.

Snape was the first to speak.

"Pettigrew!" he spat.

"Are you sure, Severus?" asked Fudge. "It looks like him, but I'm not certain…"

"Oh, it's him. Trust me. I saw enough of the snivelling little creep when I was at school."

"Very well. Excuse me, I had better go and call for a squad of Aurors. Congratulations, Harry and Miss, er, Granger, isn't it?" With an apologetic smile, Fudge left.

Dunbledore stood up.

"Harry, Hermione, please excuse me. I need to go and deal with Sirius." He flicked his wand at Pettigrew, binding him with ropes, and turned to Snape, who was glaring at the traitor with a look of pure loathing.

"Severus, this is the man who betrayed Lily and James Potter to Lord Voldemort. Kindly take him to your office and stand guard over him until the Aurors arrive."

Snape nodded grimly and swept from the room, levitating Wormtail in front of him. Dumbledore followed him out, smiling at Harry and Hermione as he shut the door. Madam Pomfrey bustled over, looking annoyed.

"So, am I finally allowed to treat my patients?" she asked irritably, handing them both chocolate. "Eat this and get some rest. It must have been a very traumatic night for you both. Don't worry about Mr Weasley, I've mended his broken leg, all he needs now is sleep."

She was so cross that it seemed wisest to acquiesce, and they ate their chocolate in silence. As she marched back to her office, Ron woke up.

"What happened?" he asked blearily. "Where's Sirius?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"You explain," grinned Harry, and he helped himself to some more chocolate.

**NOTE: OK, so that was a little slow-moving. Things will pick up soon, I promise. I just need to establish the setting and the differences between the end of Harry's third year in this story and the end of Harry's third year in canon. It'll pay off plot-wise later on, trust me!**


	2. Prologue Part Two

**Prologue – Taken at the Flood (Third Year)**

**Part Two – Explanations**

"_No, no! The adventures first, explanations take such a dreadful time."_

Lewis Carroll – _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and through the Looking-Glass_

* * *

><p><strong>Note: Sorry for the delay, some personal stuff happened. And things. I'll get the next chapter up super-fast to make up for it!<strong>

* * *

><p>Harry, Ron and Hermione stumbled blearily in the Headmaster's wake as he led them to his office. According to Harry's watch, it had been three o'clock in the morning when Dumbledore had woken him from a very deep sleep in the Hospital Wing and told the trio that they were required in his office.<p>

"I have told the Minister and the Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement how Peter was caught, and since the entire saga of Sirius' wrongful conviction and escape is very embarrassing to the Ministry, they are willing to overlook Miss Granger's use of a Time-Turner and the fact that Sirius is an unregistered Animagus in order to avoid further negative publicity," he had informed them. "However, there are still a few matters that need to be cleared up."

Madam Pomfrey had been very unwilling to let them go, despite the fact that Ron's leg was as good as new. However, the Headmaster had overruled her protestations, and that was why, at half past three in the morning, Harry found himself trotting in Dumbledore's wake through the silent corridors of Hogwarts.

When they arrived in the office (the password was 'Chocolate Frogs'), Harry saw that it was already occupied. Lupin was sitting in a chair, looking somewhat uncomfortable, while Sirius lounged in the seat next to him with his feet on Dumbledore's desk. Snape stood in the shadows glowering, while Fudge was deep in conversation with a strict-looking woman who was presumably Madam Bones. McGonagall was there too, and a young woman with a quill and roll of parchment who appeared to be a secretary.

"Harry!" beamed Fudge, "Well done! A good night's work by you and your friends, exonerating Mr Black here!"

He gave Harry a fatherly smile, but underneath his superficial happiness he looked strained. That made sense, really, thought Harry: he would be worried about the repercussions of Sirius turning out to be innocent. In the Muggle justice system, Sirius would be able to sue for wrongful imprisonment and maybe slander, perhaps there were similar concepts in wizarding law?

"What happens to Sirius now?" asked Hermione, who had clearly been thinking along the same lines.

"There will of course be a full pardon and… um… an apology from the Ministry," said Fudge, somewhat sheepishly. "Peter Pettigrew will have to be put on trial, and I have already offered Mr Black a personal apology."

"Although," interjected Sirius, "despite the fact that I'm pretty sure you were one of the first on the scene, you were in no way responsible for me being sent to Azkaban without a trial."

"Without a trial?" said Ron incredulously.

"Those were dark and dangerous times," said Fudge. "It was almost impossible to know who you could trust, and consider that many people in positions of power, respectable people, often honest people, were from old pure-blood families. Everyone had a relative who was in the Death Eaters, whether by choice or under the influence of the Imperius Curse, and most of the older and more influential members of wizarding society had supported the notion of magical supremacy and pure-blood rule over the Muggles long before You-Know-Who appeared. Many people supported his aims at first and then backed out when they saw the lengths he was willing to go to. So the Ministry, or certain elements within the Ministry, took a hard line. Imprisonment without trial was authorised, as was the use of Unforgivable Curses by Aurors: several Death Eaters were killed rather than captured. For some of the hard-liners, maybe it was their only way of coping with the fact that they were jailing their own sons, cousins, friends. For the others it was just a desperate attempt to protect themselves and their loved ones. We were all terrified, you know. We didn't know who would turn up dead next, or who would betray us. Mr Black's apparent defection fitted a pattern of people from old families turning Death Eater or traitor: Rookwood, Evan Rosier, even young –"

He was interrupted by Dumbledore's fire flaring green. A man appeared in the flames, and stepped smartly out onto the mat.

Harry gaped. Despite his wizard's robes, this man looked like the sort of banker or businessman that Uncle Vernon would have approved of. He had a severe haircut, a trim moustache and a stern face.

"Barty," said Dumbledore gravely, inclining his head.

"Headmaster, Minister, my apologies for my tardiness. The news came as something of a shock, as you might imagine," replied the new arrival.

Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged, but then Hermione hissed in his ear "That's Bartemius Crouch. He's the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation."

Sirius, who had overheard, added "Yes, and twelve years ago he was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

He leaned forward in his chair and glowered at Mr Crouch, and grinned evilly.

"Which means, in case you hadn't figured it out for yourselves, that he's the man who sent me to Azkaban without a trial."

"Yes," said Mr Crouch crisply, smoothing a crease in his robes. "I assume you will be getting an official apology from the Ministry? I, of course, wish to add my personal apologies. Whatever you may think about me, all I ever wanted was justice for the victims of the Dark Lord's crimes, and I think you'll agree that my record shows my dedication to that cause. Your wrongful conviction was regrettable. Most regrettable. A complete miscarriage of justice. Not to mention the fact that the real perpetrator walked free. But, based on the evidence… and look at your family. Pure-blood supremacists for parents, a younger brother in the Death Eaters, not to mention your cousin Narcissa and her husband Lucius Malfoy –"

"– who had been under the Imperius Curse and were completely innocent," interjected Fudge in a strained voice.

Snape snorted.

"Yes, yes, but we didn't know that at the time," replied Crouch, with a touch of asperity. "More to the point, look her sister Bellatrix and the Lestranges, convicted of the torture of two valuable members of the –"

"– well," snapped Sirius, "if we're going to look at it that way, _Crouch_, might I remind you who one of my dear, crazed cousin Bella's co-defendants was?"

"That will be quite enough, Sirius," interrupted Dumbledore. "You were imprisoned without trial for a crime you did not commit by a panicked Wizengamot who only saw some evidence. You deserve restitution. But flinging around personal insults will not help anybody."

"Makes me feel better," Sirius muttered. "They never even did _Priori Incantatem_ on my wand to see if I had cast the Killing Curse!"

"They didn't?" asked Fudge, startled. "That's a bit rich! I never knew that…"

"On the other hand," piped up Hermione, "you never really did anything to convince them of your innocence, did you? You were found standing in the middle of a street full of dead Muggles, roaring laughing, and you never spoke in your defence."

Lupin chuckled, seemingly despite himself.

"I was in shock, at first," said Sirius, slowly. "And then I figured nobody would believe me anyway. I was so angry. So, so angry. With Peter. With myself for trusting him, for convincing Lily and James to trust him."

He shook his head.

Harry was still trying to take all this in, but one thing was at the forefront of his mind.

"You're related to _Draco Malfoy_?" he asked incredulously.

"All the pure-blood families are related, there's so few of us left. Bloody inbred, if you ask me. No wonder we turn out lunatics like dear Bellatrix every so often. More half-bloods and Muggle-borns, that's what wizarding society needs!"

This time, Lupin actually laughed. "It's a miracle your family never disowned you!"

"Mother came close, if you remember, but after Regulus died I was the last of the Blacks. They couldn't afford to disown me, they were so obsessed with continuing the family name."

"If you don't mind," said Crouch with a hint of impatience in his voice, "I must be off. I have the feeling this is going to be a very busy day."

He offered his hand to Sirius: after a moment's hesitation he took it and they shook hands firmly.

"My apologies, Mr Black. And I will have a formal, public apology from me printed in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow. Welcome back to Wizarding Britain."

With that, he stepped back into the fire and disappeared in a blur of green flames.

"Ah… yes… Barty's right," said Fudge. "We had better get going. This is going to be the biggest mess I've seen in my political career. Oh, when that awful Skeeter woman gets a hold of this…"

With that, he too disappeared into the fire, followed by Madam Bones and the secretary.

Snape stepped forward.

"If you have no further need of me, Headmaster, I would like to get _some_ sleep tonight."

"Very well, Severus. I will see you at breakfast."

The Potions Master swept from the room, pausing only to glare at Harry and Sirius with equal measures of loathing.

Lupin stood up, grinning at Snape's chagrin.

"Actually, I should be heading to bed too. It's been an… interesting night."

When he had left, Dumbledore glanced at his watch.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, could you return to the Hospital Wing? I just with to have a word with Mr Potter and then he can go down after you."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, and Hermione nodded.

"Goodnight, you two, and thank you!" said Sirius as they left.

Once the door had shut behind them, Dumbledore sat down at his desk. Sirius hastily removed his feet.

"Now, Harry, I understand that Sirius has invited you to go and live with him. I am afraid, however, that such a plan is not, strictly speaking, possible."

Harry felt a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. For one glorious, shining moment his had looked like he was going to escape the Dursleys.

"Why not?" he asked, his mouth unaccountably dry.

"When your mother died to protect you, she didn't just prevent Voldemort's Killing Curse from ending your life. She left you with a lingering protection, but a protection that only works while you are a child and in the care of someone with your mother's blood, which is to say your Aunt Petunia. You need to call Number Four, Privet Drive home until you come of age, for that protection to work."

His eyes twinkled.

"However, there is nothing to prevent you from spending most of the holidays with Sirius, or staying with your friend Mr Weasley, just as long as Privet Drive remains your home. Return there for a week at the start of the holidays, that is all I ask. I daresay they will be glad to see you leave them in peace for most of the summer."

Harry nodded. That was better than nothing. At least it was only a week stuck with the Dursleys.

"Now, I think you should go back to the Hospital Wing and rejoin your friends to sleep, if you can find time to close your eyes in between discussing this night's events!"

Harry grinned.

"I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will stop us talking at some point, Professor. After all, she usually does!"

"What do you mean, usually?" asked Sirius.

"This will be the second time in three years that Harry has spent the last night of the school year in the Hospital Wing," said Dumbledore. "And last year he spent a sizable part of the night out of bounds and in mortal danger, having kidnapped a Professor."

Sirius threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"Like father, like son!" he exclaimed.


	3. Prologue Part Three

**Prologue – Taken at the Flood (Third Year)**

**Part Three – The Morning After**

_[T]hat the past should not have been implies a contradiction. For as it implies a contradiction to say that Socrates is sitting, and is not sitting, so does it to say that he sat, and did not sit._

St. Thomas Aquinas – _Summa Theologica_

The next morning, the school was abuzz with rumours. When Harry arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast along with Ron and Hermione (Madam Pomfrey had released them from her care after much grumbling about their tendency to go looking for trouble), those students who had the _Daily Prophet_ delivered to them each morning were already passing their copies of the paper among their classmates amid much exited chattering. As the trio reached the Gryffindor table, Neville looked up and saw them.

"Here, Harry, you have _got_ to see this!" he said, throwing his copy over. Ron caught it, scanned the front page with raised eyebrows and handed it to Harry.

**SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?**

**PETER PETTIGREW (ORDER OF MERLIN, FIRST CLASS) STILL ALIVE, APPREHENDED LAST NIGHT IN HOGWARTS.**

**ATTEMPT TO KILL THE BOY-WHO-LIVED? WHAT WERE BLACK AND PETTIGREW DOING ON THE SCHOOL GROUNDS AND WHY HAD THE DEMENTORS NOT CAUGHT THEM?**

**FULL STORY INSIDE**

**RUMOURS OF WEREWOLF LOOSE ON HOGWARTS GROUNDS** _(see page 6)_

**DEMENTOR ATTACK ON SCHOOL QUIDDITCH MATCH EARLIER IN YEAR** _(see page 9)_

**MINISTRY TREATMENT OF ACCUSED DEATH EATERS CALLED INTO QUESTION** _(editorial, page 60_)

Harry chuckled.

"It looks like the editor, and whoever the reporter is, decided to fill up the front page with headlines. This must be a field day for them, a chance to report on a government scandal."

"Hmmm…" said Hermione, looking over his shoulder, "but all I want to know is where these rumours of a werewolf came from."

"Maybe someone heard howling?" shrugged Ron. "Anyway, who cares? I'm starving!"

As he sat down and dug into a plate of food, Hermione pursed her lips in a very Mrs Weasleyish manner but said nothing.

"Thanks, Neville!" said Harry, handing him pack the paper. "But what are Death Eaters?"

"That's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," he replied gravely. "It was meant to sound frightening and impressive."

"Sounds pretty stupid to me," snorted Seamus.

"Not when they're trying to kill you, I suppose", replied Hermione.

Ron yawned loudly.

"I'm exhausted," he groaned. "Why did Dumbledore drag us to that meeting last night? It's not like we did anything!"

"Maybe he wanted us to be recognised for our contribution to clearing Sirius' name", said Hermione.

Ron snorted.

"Great, so now all the Ministry employees whose careers are on the line over this know who's responsible!"

Harry smiled grimly.

"Good. Let them know that the case was solved by three thirteen-year-olds and a cat. Bet they feel stupid now."

The trio exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing.

* * *

><p>After breakfast, Hermione announced she was going to the library, saying she wanted to see what she could find out about wizarding law with regard to Sirius' wrongful conviction. Harry and Ron went down to the lake and sat around talking Quidditch and enjoying the sunshine and lack of schoolwork, grateful for having thus far escaped Hermione's annual tradition of doing post-mortems on their exam papers. Over the course of the afternoon, Dean, Seamus, Neville and the twins joined them and they lost track of time talking about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Mr Weasley had apparently acquired tickets to the final, and wanted Harry and Hermione to join the family for the occasion. As they went their separate ways: Dean and Neville to the Great Hall for dinner, the twins up to the Owlery to send a message (the contents of which they refused to elaborate on) and Harry and Ron up to the library to find Hermione, Harry couldn't help but feel optimistic about the coming summer.<p>

When they got to the library, Hermione was nowhere to be found. They looked all over the library, walking up and down aisles of shelves, which Madam Pince glaring at them suspiciously, presumably because students choosing to be in the library on a glorious day after the exams had ended were clearly up to no good. Eventually, they decided that she must have gone down to dinner without them, and so they left the library to head down to the Great Hall themselves. However, as they walked along the corridor, they saw Lupin and Hermione coming towards them, deep in conversation. Lupin glanced up, saw them and broke off his conversation with Hermione, who looked somewhat upset.

"Harry, Ron, how fortunate you're here. I was just telling Hermione that I intend to resign and I felt that you two should know too."

"But… why?" asked Harry, stunned.

"I put you all in danger last night through my own stupidity. I cannot afford to let that happen again. And frankly, Sirius _could_ have been a dangerous fugitive. My cowardly refusal to inform Dumbledore of his Animagus abilities could have put everyone in this castle in danger too."

"But you're the best Defence teacher we've ever had!" protested Ron.

"That's very kind of you, Ron, but my competitors are a man being possessed by Voldemort and a fraud. Next to them, anyone who knew their material would look good, even a werewolf."

They could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Lupin looked up, over Harry's shoulder.

"Ah, Headmaster," he said, "this is goodbye, for now."

"You're certain I can't change your mind, Remus?" asked Dumbledore gravely.

"Indeed… I feel it's for the best if I leave quietly, no, no, there's no need to see me out. I'll just go and collect my things from my office and I'll walk down to the gates and get one of the carriages. Goodbye, you three, and try to stay out of trouble!"

With that, he was gone.

Dumbledore looked after him sadly, before turning back to the trio.

"I expect you're hungry after your adventures yesterday. We had better get some food before it's all gone!"

As they walked down the stairs, something struck Harry.

"Professor… yesterday, at the end of my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went a bit… strange. Stranger than usual, I mean. Her voice went all funny and her eyes were rolling and she said that Voldemort had a servant, a servant who had been chained for twelve years, who would escape as midnight approached, and that… and that Voldemort would rise again, 'greater and more terrible than ever before'."

Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"Hmmm… that certainly does sound like a real prophecy," said Dumbledore. "That would be her second, if it comes true I might offer her a raise."

"But it sounds like she's talking about Wormtail," said Hermione, "so maybe we messed up the prophecy by going back in time?"

"No, no…" said Dumbledore, "because the future a… ahem… _true_ Seer would have predicted would take that in to account. It's curious, very curious…"

"What will happen to Wormtail now?" asked Ron.

"Well, Mr Weasley, he will most likely spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. And even if he gets out, he owes Harry here a life debt."

"I don't want him to be in debt to me!" said Harry forcefully.

"You don't have a choice," replied Dumbledore, "such are the rules of magic that guide our actions. One day you may even be thankful for it. You may have wondered why I brought you to that meeting last night. I wanted you all to see for yourselves the complexities of even one of the more straightforward and clear-cut aspects of wizarding history. The world is not merely divided into good people and Death Eaters, and a person who commits a crime may one day be redeemed. That's worth remembering."

He said no more until they arrived in the Great Hall, and several times during dinner Harry looked up at the top table and saw him staring thoughtfully into space.

* * *

><p>The next week, after the excitement of the Leaving Feast and Gryffindor winning the House Cup and Quidditch Cup, they all got the train back to King's Cross. Ron was talking animatedly about the Quidditch World Cup when a something small and round flew in the open window of their compartment. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a small and very excitable owl, carrying a letter that was almost as big as itself, addressed to Harry.<p>

_Dear Harry,_

_I am back in the family home, and must start making the place habitable! I hope you, Ron and Hermione are all okay. I expect to be issued with an official Ministry pardon and apology tomorrow: that should be fun. _

_You're very like your parents, Harry. I must apologise: I think I scared you when I tried to see you outside your relatives' house before I started my journey north, but I'm very glad that I got to see you, and that I got to see you fly – even if you were attacked by Dementors halfway through! You're as good a flier as James, for sure. And by the way, it was me who sent you that Firebolt for your birthday. Crookshanks delivered the order for me, and I bought it in your name, but the money came from my own vault. Consider it thirteen years of birthday presents from an irresponsibly absent godfather._

_I hope to see you and the others soon. Try to stay out of trouble in the meantime!_

_Sirius_

_P.S.: Ron can keep the owl. It's the least I can do to make up for losing him his pet rat._

Ron grabbed the tiny out of the air, and stared at it suspiciously, before holding out his hand to Crookshanks.

"What d'you reckon?" he asked. "Definitely a real animal?"

Crookshanks purred.

"Good enough for me!"

* * *

><p>Getting off the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross was usually difficult for Harry, because it meant returning to the Dursleys. This summer, however, he knew he could look forward to escaping from their clutches very soon, so he felt better about it. When he stepped out from the magical barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and the Muggle world, he saw Mrs Weasley and the Grangers waiting for their respective children. Uncle Vernon was standing a little to one side of them, looking at them as if he suspected they were also there to collect children from Hogwarts. When Mrs Weasley hugged Harry and promised that she would see him soon, the expression on Vernon's face suggested that his worst fears had been confirmed.<p>

"What's that?" he grunted, pointing at the letter Harry was still holding, "if it's another ruddy form for me to sign…"

"Not at all!" grinned Harry. "It's a letter from my godfather."

"You don't have a godfather," said Vernon bemusedly.

"Yeah I do. He was my Mum and Dad's best friend and fought in the war against Voldemort before being framed for mass murder and locked up for twelve years. He escaped last summer and went on the run looking for the real killer: he's the man you saw on the news, the 'dangerous escaped convict'. And we helped him prove his innocence. He'll be coming to take me off your hands for most of the summer in a few weeks."

Uncle Vernon looked simply stunned. Harry grinned, waved to his friends, and sauntered out of the station, his uncle huffing and panting in his wake.

* * *

><p><strong>OK, so this took a little longer than I expected. It's been tough, starting at the end of one of Harry's school years (and therefore adventures), because it means there's a lot of exposition in the early chapters. Now I can start on the fun stuff! The next chapter will be up on Wednesday, I promise. Also, thanks to Qoheleth for reminding me of the Aquinas quote that's the epigraph for this chapter.<br>**


	4. Interlude I

**Interlude – Perspectives and Portents**

"_I move from dreamer to dreamer, from dream to dream, hunting for what I need.__ Slipping and sliding and flickering through dreams; and the dreamers will wake and wonder why this dream seemed different, wonder how real their lives can truly be."_

Neil Gaiman – _The Sandman: Season of Mists_

Hermione Granger walked out of the library, ready to go down to the Great Hall for dinner. She was so preoccupied with processing her research into redress for miscarriages of justice in the wizarding legal system that she entirely failed to notice Professor Lupin approaching from her left until she collided with him.

"Oh, Professor! I'm so sorry!"

"Not to worry, Hermione, not to worry", he smiled, "as a matter of fact this is quite a fortuitous accident: I wanted to have a word with you about your Defence Against the Dark Arts exam."

Hermione's brain went into overdrive. Why did he want to discuss the exam the evening after she had sat it? Had she failed so obviously? She hadn't made it past the Boggart, but surely she'd still done better than Ron? Had Ron failed too?

"Wh-what is it?"

"I was just curious, you see. I'm not entirely convinced that your Boggart really took the form of Professor McGonagall."

Hermione opened her mouth to lie, and caught Professor Lupin's eye. He looked as though he could see exactly what she was thinking. She sighed.

"It was… a joke. Of Ron's. Ages ago. That my Boggart would be a piece of homework that got nine out of ten. When I got out of the trunk, I was so upset, and I didn't want to –"

"– You didn't want to admit what your Boggart really was, because it was too upsetting to think about, so you improvised," finished the teacher.

Hermione nodded.

"Would you like to talk about it now?" he asked.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. He had seen right through her!

"You know, when I was your age our Defence teacher made us face Boggarts in the exam. I was a bit nervous, because I wasn't as good at the _Riddikulus_ charm back then, but I did fine. Sirius, on the other hand… I always thought Sirius and James would breeze through that part of the test. They were always so lighthearted. But Sirius had real trouble. He didn't defeat his Boggart, he refused to tell us what form could have been so terrifying. I found out several years later: it had been James and me, dead. This was back when Voldemort was rising to power, and he was scared, Hermione, scared of losing his friends. And I can't help but wonder, since you, Harry and Ron have been through so much danger together, if you saw something similar…"

"Y-yes," she replied. "I did. It terrified me. I could lose them so easily: I almost _have_ lost them a couple of times, I've almost died myself, and we're only _thirteen_!"

Professor Lupin smiled wanly.

"Yes, I know, it is frightening to be exposed to so much danger at so young an age, but trust your friends, trust Dumbledore, and remember that there are plenty of adults out there who are concerned for the safety of every student in this school. Not to mention Harry, who seems to be on a one-man crusade to rid this school of every threat it faces! Take care of him, Hermione. I won't be around –"

He broke off, and she wondered what had made him stop until she noticed Harry and Ron approaching.

Later that evening, sitting at dinner, all she could think about was the lucky escape she had had. Lupin had come dangerously close, but he hadn't actually worked out what her Boggart had been, which was just as well. There were some things even the brightest witch of her generation couldn't process.

* * *

><p>The man keeps moving. He sleeps rough with the Muggle tramps: unshaven, his long coat muddy and worn, he must be starting to look like them. But he is free. He has shaken off the bonds that held him, that dulled his mind. He remembers the moment of clarity, of lucidity. They had been coming with increasing frequency and this time his captor was not there. It had taken great effort, but he had freed himself. And now he ran across Europe like all the Dementors of Azkaban were following him. He had to find the key, the solution, the only way to save wizarding society from itself. Where was he now? Paris? Still so far to go. If he hop on a high-speed train to Marseilles, uses a Disillusionment Charm to avoid paying for a ticket, maybe he can catch a boat… no, he needs to eat, and sleep, and regain his strength so he can Apparate. Time is short. The world awaits.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>SCANDEL AT THE MINISTRY<strong>

_By Rita Skeeter_

_Last week, in a dramatic turn of events, convicted mass-murderer Sirius Black was pardoned by the Ministry of Magic. Today, the _Daily Prophet _can exclusively reveal that this pardon came after the discovery – made by none other than Harry Potter – that one of Black's alleged victims, Peter Pettigrew, was not only still alive but also the real killer. Black and Potter's evidence was corroborated by an interrogation of Pettigrew using Veritaserum and the examination of Black's memories of the event in a Pensieve. Questions have been raised about why these elementary investigative methods were not used twelve years ago when Black was arrested and charged, and a cursory examination of Ministry records reveals that he was sent to Azkaban without a trial, by none other than the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (now Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation), Bartemius Crouch. As a rookie reporter for the _Prophet _I covered many of the trials of accused Death Eaters and can personally attest to Mr Crouch's unforgiving attitude and hardline stance, even when the accused was his own son. (continued on page 2)_

* * *

><p>Ginny Weasley wonders whether she will be able to talk to Harry when he comes to visit. She keeps making such a fool of herself in front of him. She sighs, and looks at herself in the mirror. Why worry? It's not like Harry's going to pay attention to her anyway. She's just Ron's dumb little sister who got herself possessed by You-Know-Who.<p>

_And fought back_, a tiny voice in her head reminds her. _Harry thought you were very brave._

She stands up. Maybe it is time she talked to Hermione. Luna's nice, but she's no good for things like this. She'll just blame it on the Nargles or something. Ginny chuckles at her own ability to make the strangest friends, and feels a little better. Luna always cheers her up.

* * *

><p>Sirius Black sits down, exhausted. Cleaning this gargantuan old house, this decrepit pile hidden in plain sight in the middle of London, is hard work. He summons a Butterbeer from the kitchen, grumbling about that bloody useless House-Elf, and picks up the paper. Reading about his own exploits in the national press never gets old, particularly when that acid-tongued Skeeter woman is tearing into the Ministry on his behalf. He vaguely remembers darling Bella complaining about her being uppity and nosey, good for her, he reckons. That makes him snort at her claim to have been a rookie reporter in the early nineties: she must be ten years older than him! He shakes his head, and turns the page. Poor James would have very much enjoyed poking fun in his newfound celebrity.<p> 


	5. Book One Chapter One

**Book One – Awakenings**

_Certain things have to happen before other things. Gods play games with the fates of men. But first they have to get all the pieces on the board, and look all over the place for the dice._

Terry Pratchett – _Soul Music_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One – Leaving Home<strong>

_Keep your head down. Do your own time._

Neil Gaiman – _American Gods_

* * *

><p>Harry was sitting in his bedroom in Number Four, Privet Drive, looking out the window at the street below. In an hour or so, Sirius would have arrived and he would be leaving the Dursleys for the rest of the summer. Even though it had only been three weeks since he had left Hogwarts, and the threat of a former convict arriving to take him away had kept his relatives out of his hair, it had still been very hard to wait for his escape. Dumbledore had said he need only stay in Privet Drive for a week, but of course things were never that simple, and Sirius had affairs to put in order and a house to make habitable after years of neglect, so Harry had been required to put off his return to the wizarding world for a fortnight longer than he had initially hoped.<p>

The three weeks had seemed all the longer because of his aunt and uncle's increasingly desperate attempts to implement a diet imposed on Dudley by the school nurse at Smeltings, since he was now approaching the size and weight of a fully-grown bull seal. Dudley had responded as expected to the initiative, throwing a series of tantrums that largely involved screaming himself sick and flinging things – his turtle, his PlayStation, possibly even himself (Harry wasn't really paying attention, but his cousin's threats _did_ get quite melodramatic when he was angry) – through various parts of Uncle Vernon's greenhouse, which his uncle had repaired three times to date (he seemed too scared of Sirius to make Harry do it). Harry found it quite amusing that each repair had been inevitably followed by another Dudley tantrum: it would be much more sensible to have waited for the issue to be resolved before repairing the damage, as a greenhouse was hardly necessary in Surrey in the height of summer, but of course the neighbours might have noticed that damage and that would not have looked Respectable, with a capital 'R'. Harry was pretty sure his uncle was actually in the process of replacing two shattered planes in the greenhouse at that very moment, but this time it might actually have been a sensible decision, since Aunt Petunia seemed to have brokered a deal involving the entire family signing up to Dudley's diet 'so he didn't feel left out'. All-in-all, Harry thought, his exit from the Dursley household for the summer couldn't have been better-timed.

Chuckling at the thought of his beefy uncle having to survive the summer on salad – and doubtless sneaking off to buy ice-cream and buns and Cornish pasties – Harry turned back to the pile of newspapers on his bed. He had taken out a daily subscription to the _Prophet_ in order to follow its coverage of what an enterprising (and presumably Muggleborn) sub-editor was hammering into the public consciousness as 'Blackgate'. Whoever this Rita Skeeter woman was, she was doing a very thorough and sharp-tongued job of running every possible thread of the story to its source, even covering rumours that Mr Crouch had sacked his House Elf. She seemed pretty determined to see Crouch resign or be forced out of office – frankly Harry was surprised that he was still holding on to his job, but presumably being in the Ministry for several decades had its advantages when it came to seniority and people owing you favours – and was gleefully tearing strips out of all the parties involved in Sirius' imprisonment and the awarding of the Order of Merlin, First Class to Wormtail on a daily basis. She had interviewed Mr Weasley and described him as "a shining example, despite his old family name, of new thinking in the Ministry", and Harry was grateful to see the man get recognition for his ideals rather than castigated by rich wizards like Lucius Malfoy who thought that Muggles were inferior.

He was jerked out of his reverie by the sound of a car pulling up outside. He looked back out the window and saw a shiny new sports car parked in the drive just as the doorbell rang. He threw the newspapers in the top of his trunk, grabbed the trunk, his Firebolt and Hedwig's cage (Hedwig hooting indignantly at his haste), and ran out to the top of the stairs. He could see Dudley peering out from the sitting room door, which was only open a crack. Presumably he was remembering his last encounter with an adult wizard.

Sirius was standing in the doorway talking to Aunt Petunia, but looked up when he heard Harry at the top of the stairs.

"Ah, there you are, Harry, great! Come on, no sense in keeping your aunt and uncle waiting!"

Uncle Vernon, who was standing in the hall, out of breath and with his gardening gloves still on, looked relieved at that.

Aunt Petunia, who seemed flustered, as opposed to her usual icy anger around anything to do with magic, politely mumbled something about "what a very smart car that is".

Sirius grinned.

"Thank you very much, Mrs Dursley. I just bought it last week. Top of the range from Ferrari, no… ahem… special modifications, just good workmanship. I've always loved good cars and bikes, and coming into the family money about a decade after I should have has its advantages: the family solicitor is very good at investment banking!"

Harry could see Uncle Vernon's face, and it was a picture. He was torn between his approval at the respectability that came with a Ferrari and a family solicitor and investing your inheritance, and his hostility towards Sirius as a wizard, as Harry's godfather, and as a friend of Harry's parents. For the moment, it seemed to be a stalemate, and it was unlikely that he would see the outcome for the foreseeable future as he had reached the bottom of the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him.

"Perfect, Harry, I'll take the trunk from here. Goodbye, Mrs Dursley, Mr Dursley, such a _pleasure_, and I must admit you look nothing like poor Lils, but that's family for you. I should know, everyone else in my immediate family was a Muggle-hating maniac!"

With that parting shot, Sirius swept out the door, effortlessly hefting Harry's trunk into the open boot of his car. Harry slid out behind him, with a smirk and a "seeya!" to his aunt and uncle.

"What an insufferably stiff woman," grinned Sirius as he opened the front passenger door for Harry, "she reminds me a little of cousin Cissy, who of course gave birth to that Malfoy boy who I believe is your _best friend_ at Hogwarts."

Laughing uproariously, they drove out of Little Whinging, with Sirius pushing the speed limit all the way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Long time, no update. Sorry about that, a lot of stuff keeps happening to me, sometimes in sequence, sometimes all at once. I believe that's called life. Thanks for all the absolutely lovely reviews, and it's great to see that we're already getting people who are curious about things, and have strong opinions on ships and so on. Let's keep it nice, eh? :P Next update much sooner, I swear!**


	6. Book One Chapter Two

**Book One – Awakenings**

**Chapter Two – Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place**

"_You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy."_

George Lucas – _Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope_

As the car went onto the M25, Sirius turned on the radio and twiddled the dial until they heard a voice announcing that they were listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry grinned.

"I thought you said you hadn't made any magical modifications to this car, Padfoot?"

"Yeah… well… I lied," smirked his godfather.

Harry chuckled.

"I'm looking forward to this. Living with the Dursleys… well, aside from the obvious problems with bullying and so on, it's difficult, living in the magical world for most of the year and then going back there…"

"It must be tough, not being able to talk about Hogwarts and your life as a wizard."

"Yes, but also… I feel like I'm missing out, you know? Don't get me wrong, the Weasleys are brilliant, but Mr and Mrs Weasley are my friends' parents, they're not mine. There's all this stuff about wizarding sport and society and everyday magic that I'm not learning. All those spells Fred and George use for pranks, for example."

Sirius snorted.

"Now I think we're reaching the heart of the matter. That little spiel was a bit of emotional blackmail, wasn't it? Trying to make me feel sorry for you so I'll teach you everything I know!"

"Weeeelllll… it was all _true_, but yeah, little bit of that," smirked Harry.

"Good. You're learning. Moony and I will make a Marauder of you yet! Having said that, I won't teach you _all_ my tricks, and I fully expect you to work out new ideas yourself. They're the first two rules."

"Rules?" asked Harry.

"The Ancient and Most Secret Code of the Marauding Brethren, developed by Godric Gryffindor himself," Sirius winked, "or so we told Peter. He actually bought it! They're useful rules though. Rule One is 'Never reveal _everything_ you know' and Rule Two is 'Always, always improvise'. Remember those."

"What are the others?"

"Oh, there are _loads_! I don't even remember how many off the top of my head! Rule Three is 'Never, repeat _never_, hit on Lily Evans'. Another useful one, although not one you'll need to keep in mind."

"Was that because of Dad?"

"Not in the way you're thinking," grinned Sirius. "It had nothing to do with James getting jealous, it was actually Moony who came up with that rule in our fourth year after James annoyed Lily so much that she cast a Bat-Bogey Hex on him."

Harry laughed.

"I can see I have a lot to learn about the Marauders. This is going to be an interesting summer."

Sirius smiled, ruffled his hair, and stuck a cassette in the player.

After they exited the M25, the traffic got noticeably heavier, and soon they were crawling along through London traffic in the sweltering heat. Harry didn't mind. He was still excited at the thought of spending the next few weeks with his godfather, and hopefully learning some interesting spells and useful pranking tips. Not to mention that there was still the Quidditch World Cup to look forward to. He couldn't help but wonder what Sirius' house would be like. The Burrow was ramshackle and heavily magically-modified, but he didn't know how much of that was to do with them being wizards and how much was because money was often tight. He had never seen another wizarding house, although he knew that Malfoy lived in a manor somewhere in the countryside. Sirius' family were rich Pure-bloods like the Malfoys, but he doubted they lived in a manor in the middle of London. Perhaps they had a town house and a country house? That was what rich Muggle nobles used to do, certainly. He remembered Sirius saying in one of his letters that he was having to do a lot of cleaning work, presumably it had been left empty for a while. He didn't know how long the rest of Sirius' close family had been dead for, and this wasn't a subject he particularly wanted to broach on their first day together. He would just have to wait and see.

After several hours inching through the summer city, Harry was very grateful for the fact that Sirius' new car was a convertible. Eventually, however, they turned down a quiet street and then another, and soon they were in the old Victorian suburbs. They drove into a square called Grimmauld Place, and Sirius pulled up outside a nondescript house.

"Here we go," he said, hopping out of the car.

Harry followed suit, puzzled as to why rich Pure-blood supremacists would choose to live in a rundown Muggle house.

As if sensing his thoughts, Sirius smiled and said "It's the perfect hiding-place! All sorts of charms and wards to keep unwanted visitors away, Muggles can't even see it – they think there was a curious mistake in the numbering when the square was built that means there's a number eleven and a number thirteen, but no twelve, I believe it's even on a walking-tour of Victorian London – and my dear departed dad made the damn thing Unplottable, so it won't show up on any map, and Appartion wards so you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside the house, like Hogwarts. Pretty much the only protective enchantment that hasn't been cast on it is a goddamn Fidelius Charm!"

He ran up the steps to the front door and tapped on the lock with his wand.

"Besides, it's a lot more impressive than it looks, as you'll – actually, please make an effort to be quiet in the hall, I'll explain why in a minute – yeah, you'll see that it's pretty decent in here. Quite the Pureblood mansion. You see," he flung open the door dramatically, "it's bigger on the inside!"

**Notes: I just couldn't resist that last line, OK? :P**

**I know I said last time that I'd get this chapter up super-fast. Yeah… well… I lied. Sorry. I'll try and get the next one up faster. I have the entire plot of this **_**very**_** long fic planned out, it's just a case of finding the time to type it up, and trying to keep all the little subplots and story arcs going (and there are lots of fun ones that aren't hugely important to the main story but help to flesh out the characters a bit). It's going to get interesting, guys! I actually plan to do a separate fic that's James and Sirius' fully-annotated **_**Ancient and Most Secret Code of the Marauding Brethren**_**, and the benefit of that is that I can add to it on days when I don't have time to write a chapter, and hopefully it'll keep people entertained until I can get a new chapter up.**


	7. Book One Chapter Three

**Book One – Awakenings**

**Chapter Three – London**

_This must be how it feels  
>To have a home<em>

Team StarKid – 'To Have A Home', _A Very Potter Sequel_

The first thing that Harry had noticed about Number 12, Grimmauld Place was how dark it was. Not just dark as in lacking in decent lighting, although that was a major issue. It also seemed like the home of a Dark wizard. There were stuffed House Elf heads on one wall, and most of the ornamentation on the furniture and fittings tended towards the serpentine. There were odd artefacts on the shelves and an umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a troll's leg. The real indicator, of course, was the reason Sirius had asked him to be quiet when they had first arrived: the portrait of Sirius' mother in the hallway that, when awoken, howled and screamed, calling her son a "blood traitor" and "traitor of my flesh" and Harry a "half-blood brat". There was also the family House Elf, Kreacher, who slunk around the house muttering about Sirius' treachery and how he had broken his mother's heart, and who refused to speak to Harry. Sirius _had_ said that his family were pure-blood supremacists, but Harry hadn't really thought about the implications of that until he was confronted with them.

Sirius had made his problems with his family clear to Harry on their first evening in Grimmauld Place, when he had brought his godson into the living room and shown him an ancient, moth-eaten tapestry surmounted by the family crest and the legend "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black".

"This is my family tree. I can't take it down, my dear mother put a Permanent Sticking Charm on it," he said, glowering at it. "There are my parents, and there's my brother Regulus. He joined the Death Eaters and then got cold feet. I think he couldn't stomach the killing. He'd been the golden boy of the family for joining up – this was in the days before most people had realised how far Voldemort was willing to go to achieve his ends. I think he tried to back out, but you know Voldemort… it's loyal service for life, or the best you can hope for is a quick death. That's where I was."

He pointed at a charred hole next to Regulus.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"When I was sixteen, I'd had enough of their pure-blood mania and their insanity. So I left. Went and lived with your father; his parents were lovely about it. So my mother… whoosh!" He mimed pointed a wand at the tapestry. "Bye-bye firstborn son! And then my Uncle Alphard died, and left me a load of money, so she blasted him off too," he indicated another hole.

"Yikes," said Harry, unsure how to respond.

"Look there," added Sirus, "my delightful cousins. Bella and Cissy married rich pure-bloods, and Death Eaters to boot, so they're still on the family tree, even if Bella and her husband and brother-in-law are serving life in Azkaban and Cissy only got off because Lucius is a canny political operator with deep pockets who sold out his colleagues to save his own skin. Not to mention that he knows where half the Ministry's bodies are buried because he's related to most of the staff."

"Is he really?" asked Harry, thinking that this would explain a lot.

"Well… all the old pure-blood families are related. The Weasleys are distant cousins of mine, not that you'll find them on here. Blood-traitors to the last man, thank heavens. But look, the point I was trying to make is that Bella and Cissy are still there, but see the hole between them?"

Harry nodded.

"That was their other sister, my favourite cousin Andromeda. She married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. Lovely man. They have a daughter, I believe she's training to be an Auror. So obviously, she was disowned. Utter nonsense. I should try to do something to change that."

He turned away from the tapestry and sighed.

"Part of me hates being back here. This was never really my home, and I have Kreacher and my blasted mother's portrait acting as constant reminders of that. I can't fire Kreacher; he's too old, he wouldn't cope. And besides, he knows all the family secrets," he shrugged, "I'm sorely tempted to stop cleaning the place out, and instead just remove my stuff and invite Arthur's department to raid the place. It's full of illegal stuff that my parents got away with hanging onto when the new laws were introduced because of their family name."

He looked gloomy for a moment, but then changed the subject and began regaling Harry with stories of his Hogwarts escapades.

* * *

><p>As the days went by, Harry started to get used to the house. He helped Sirius clean up a bit (he was moving all his possessions up to his bedroom, which looked like it hadn't been cleaned since he ran away when he was a teenager), and Sirius started teaching him handy little jinxes and defensive spells on the grounds that "James would never forgive me if I didn't teach you how to Stun people or jinx them into a mass of boils and little tentacles!" He received a letter from Ron confirming that Mr Weasley had managed to get tickets for the top box at the Quidditch World Cup final and inviting Harry to join them (<em>Hermione will be there too<em>, Ron had added, _you need to come so I don't have to explain all the Quidditch jargon to her single-handedly!_). Sirius thought it was an excellent idea, and decided that the Ministry owed him enough favours to procure him a top-box ticket too, so he could watch the game with his godson. He vowed to send an owl to someone called Ludo to get it sorted out.

* * *

><p>Two days after Ron's note had arrived was the day before Harry's fourteenth birthday. He came down to the kitchen, following the smell of bacon frying, to see Sirius reading a letter.<p>

"Is that about your ticket?" he asked hopefully.

"No," grinned Sirius, "it's from your friend Ron's mother. She's having Hermione over for the end of the summer, before the World Cup final, and wanted to know if you'd like to come along too. So I told her I was sure you would, and we decided it might be a good idea to have your birthday at the Burrow, since this house isn't really fit for hosting any parties. Molly kindly invited me to stop over at the Burrow that night, _and_ the night before the final, so we'll head off tomorrow morning."

Harry couldn't help it. He beamed.

"I've never actually had a birthday party before," he confided, "unless you count my eleventh birthday, when Hagrid broke down the door of the hut we were hiding in, gave me a cake and some sausages, gave Dudley a pig's tail, and told me I was a wizard."

Sirius frowned.

"Never had a birthday party? I knew your aunt and uncle treated you badly, but that's ridiculous!"

He hugged Harry tightly, and Harry smiled at him.

"Oh well," said Sirius, grinning back, "the last few years may have been rubbish, but at least you have some sort of a family now."

**A/N: Well, it's been a productive long weekend for my fanfiction, and there's still Bank Holiday Monday to go! This almost killed me though, I kept being distracted by more ideas for silly Luna stories. Oh, well…**


	8. Book One Chapter Four

**Book One – Awakenings**

**Chapter Four – A Birthday Party**

_Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night._

William Shakespeare – _Macbeth_ Act III Scene II

* * *

><p>When Harry awoke the next morning, he could once again smell coffee and frying bacon wafting up from the kitchen. He washed and dressed hastily and ran downstairs. When he got to the kitchen, Sirius was sitting at the table reading the <em>Daily Prophet<em> and smirking slightly while a thoroughly disgruntled-looking Kreacher cooked. He looked up when Harry sat at the table.

"Happy birthday!" he said. "Eat up and then we'll get ready to head to the Burrow for your party."

He bent down and pulled out a wrapped package from underneath the table.

"Here. I wanted to give you your present before we got there."

Harry pulled off the silver wrapping paper to find something that looked like a Swiss Army Knife and a heavy book called _Curses and Counter-Curses: Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies_ which he vaguely remembered seeing in Flourish and Blott's on his first trip to Diagon Alley. He beamed at his godfather.

"The knife's pretty handy," grinned Sirius, "it has an attachment that can open any knife, a bunch of different blades and, most importantly," he winked, "a bottle opener. James and I had ones like it during our schooldays, and I reckon he'd be spinning in his grave if I didn't make sure you had all the equipment you'd need to be just as much of a troublemaker as we were. Hence the book, too."

Kreacher served Harry's breakfast and he dug in happily. This was already the best birthday he'd had since Hagrid had told him he was a wizard, and it was only nine o'clock in the morning.

* * *

><p>They arrived at the Burrow in the mid-morning. It was Harry's second time travelling by Floo, and he had to admit that it had gone a lot better than the first attempt. He stumbled out of the Weasleys' fireplace into the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley promptly gave him a big hug and started fussily brushing soot off his shoulders.<p>

"Happy birthday, Harry!" she said, bustling him over to the table. "Sit down, dear, sit down, I've made tea."

"Oi, Mum, let him breathe," grinned Ron.

"Arthur!" beamed Sirius, stepping out of the grate with Harry's trunk, "thanks for having us over!"

He shook hands with Mr Weasley.

"Oh, it's no bother," the latter smiled, "Molly and I are always happy to have Harry round. He spent part of his summer here two years ago too!"

"You two know each other?" asked Harry, slightly bemused.

"Not well, we don't, but we had a few official meetings in the time between the end of term and me collecting you," replied Sirius, "I needed to get a license for my old bike and some other modified Muggle stuff."

"You can get licenses for that kind of thing?" asked Harry, thinking back to the furore around Mr Weasley's flying car.

"You've been on the Knight Bus, haven't you?" his godfather replied. "You can get a license for magically-modified Muggle gear, but it's a lot easier if you're using it to perform a public service, like the bus, or you'd already had it for a long time before the law was introduced, like my bike."

Harry nodded. That made sense.

"It's a useful law, and it's about time somebody started regulating the frankly ridiculous amount of seemingly-innocuous objects that the old families have rendered seriously dangerous to Muggles and wizards alike. Although I suspect that if that law had been introduced during my schooldays, James, Remus, the rat and I would have hated it for crimping our pranking style."

Harry was forcibly reminded of some of the Dark artefacts he had seen in Borgin and Burke's two years previously, but his train of thought was interrupted by Fred excitedly asking Sirius whether he had _really_ got up to pranks at school. Sirius glanced at Mrs Weasley, grinned and said he would talk about that another time.

"Anyway," said Mr Weasley, with a glance at his wife, "I'm afraid I really must be off. I just popped in from work to see you both when you arrived. Officially I'm here to give you your license, Sirius," he handed the latter a piece of parchment bearing a Ministry seal, "so now that I've done that… happy birthday, Harry!"

With that, he threw a handful of Floo powder on the fire, said "The Ministry of Magic!" and disappeared. As the flames died down, Hermione and Ginny walked into the room.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" said Hermione happily, hugging him.

"Hi," he gasped (she was squeezing a little too tightly for comfort), "I didn't expect to see you here yet!"

"When I heard you were spending your birthday here I decided I'd come a few days early," she smiled.

They started to make their way into the living room, but stopped when Mrs Weasley grabbed the twins by the scruffs of their necks.

"You two can have fun with Harry and the others when you've destroyed all the _products_ you've been working on," she said severely.

Noticing Harry's look of confusion, Ron explained that the family had recently discovered that Fred and George had spent most of their fifth year at Hogwarts designing magical pranking aids and establishing an owl-order business called Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"And they did terribly in their OWLs as a result!" said Mrs Weasley, looking to Sirius for some kind of adult support. "If they don't knuckle down and work for the next two years, they'll never get a decent job!"

"You know, Molly," replied Sirius thoughtfully, "if these products are any good… Well, when I was in school, James, Remus and I" – Harry noticed that he avoided mentioning Wormtail – "were quite the pranksters, and by the time we were in third or fourth year we were making our own equipment. Zonko's had a fairly limited range, and I was back in Hogsmeade last year and they didn't seem to have changed their window display much. So if these two are any better, with a bit of luck and a lot of hard work they could corner the market and end up as successful businessmen. The trick would be to diversify once you reached that point, of course…" he trailed off, realising that Mrs Weasley and the twins were staring at him open-mouthed.

"And, of course," he added, with a nod to Mrs Weasley, "you'll have to be good at a lot more than just designing things. You'd need good business sense, an ability to deal with the Ministry given that there are laws on the distribution of certain types of enchanted artefacts, and you'd need to have achieved enough to be taken seriously given that you're both quite young. So getting good NEWTs is going to be important."

Now all three of them were looking at him with interest.

"The other thing you'll need," he continued, "is a seed investor. If you two are serious about this business, show me some of your products later. If I'm impressed, I'll invest, but I'm going to need to see results, both academically and business-wise. Actually, if you'd like to pop over to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, before the refitting really starts, I might have some stuff for you. Pretty sure there's a box of Wartcap powder there somewhere…"

Fred and George smiled broadly. Mrs Weasley looked slightly faint.

"Are… are you sure, Sirius?" she asked.

"Well, from what I've heard from Harry, these two have potential. And I'd rather invest the family money in interesting businesses than use it to finance Pure-blood supremacists like my parents did."

She nodded and turned to her sons.

"You'll have to work hard at school," she said sternly.

"We will," grinned George, "but wow. Just wow. Thank you, Sirius."

Fred shook Sirius' hand.

"Do we have an accord?"

Sirius nodded, chuckling at the mock-formality.

"You sure? _Brilliant_!"

They all trooped into the living room and sat down, apart from Mrs Weasley. She announced that she was going to make a light lunch ("I hope you don't mind, Harry dear, but we're saving your birthday dinner for later, when Arthur and Percy are home from work. That's right, Percy's working in the Ministry now! In the Department of International Magical Cooperation!" Sirius had smirked at that last bit). After a few minutes spent catching up on what they had all been up to, Ginny went upstairs to get something and Hermione took out a folder full of newspaper clippings and handwritten notes. She sat cross-legged on the floor pouring over it, while Sirius turned to the twins.

"Harry informs me that you two stole the Marauder's Map from Filch and gave it to him."

They shot Harry an irritated look, clearly put-out that he had told an adult.

"Oh, you're not in trouble," smirked Sirius, clearly relishing the moment, "you see, I'm one of the makers."

They gaped.

"Yeah. Remus Lupin was Moony, the rat was Wormtail, I was Padfoot and James Potter was Prongs."

"No WAY!" said Fred, looking at Harry with something bordering on admiration. Harry grinned back, and settled down to listen as Fred and George bombarded Sirius with questions. Across the room, Hermione was talking intensely to Ginny about how wrong it was that Mr Crouch had sacked his House Elf. She was in the middle of a tirade about the mistreatment of House Elves when Ron interrupted.

"Leave it, Hermione. They like working. Love it. If you tried to free them they'd have breakdowns."

Hermione rounded on Ron.

"It's exactly that kind of attitude that keeps them in chains! I've half a mind to set up a society to advocate on their behalf."

Ron sniggered.

"Yeah, I can see that. President: Hermione Granger. Treasurer: Hermione Granger. Secretary: Hermione Granger. PR Officer: Hermione Granger."

Hermione flushed.

"If I have to do it alone, so be it! Why shouldn't I try to make a difference?"

"Well, for one, you couldn't handle the workload on top of your schoolwork. Also, you can't draw, which would make poster design pretty hard."

Hermione took a deep breath. Recognising the signs of an imminent full-on row between his two best friends, Harry turned away. Ginny walked over and sat down next to him.

"They do this a lot, don't they?" she remarked.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"How do you put up with it?" she smirked.

"Oh, I generally stay out of it. You get used to ignoring it after a while."

"Tell me about it," she winked.

He frowned, puzzled.

"Six brothers, remember? There's a lot of bickering."

That made him chuckle. Ginny started talking about Quidditch and soon he was being filled in on the details of all the World Cup matches he had missed. He had never experienced Ginny being talkative before, and it was a refreshing experience. It was certainly a pleasant escape from Ron and Hermione arguing (he risked a glance back over at them: they were both in full flow and Sirius appeared to be egging them on indiscriminately), and before he knew it Mrs Weasley had finished making sandwiches, and Ron and Hermione declared a truce for long enough to eat.

* * *

><p>After lunch, Ron and the twins suggested Quidditch, so Sirius Flooed back to Grimmauld Place to get his old broom, which he had found in his bedroom. Hermione was in a huff, so the others, including Sirius, played three-a-side Quidditch with a football for a Quaffle and a golf ball that Sirius enchanted to zoom around the Weasleys' paddock as a Snitch. The twins picked Ron as their team-mate, leaving the less-experienced Ginny to play with Sirius and Harry. To everyone's surprise, Ginny turned out to be an excellent Chaser, and Sirius was pretty handy with a broom despite not having been on one since his schooldays ("My brother played Seeker for Slytherin," he explained afterwards, "so we used to play a lot when we were kids. And then when I was older, spending school holidays with James meant playing Quidditch pretty much daily, which had the benefit of distracting him from mooning over Lily."). After a couple of hours spent speeding around on brooms in the summer sun, they all trooped back to the house to wash up and recover before dinner.<p>

"So," said Harry to Ginny as they flopped down on the sofa, "how did you get that good at Quidditch? I thought you didn't play with the others much?"

Ginny glanced around the room, checking that her brothers were all occupied with other matters, and leaned in conspiratorially.

"Since I was six, I've been breaking into the shed and borrowing their brooms when they were busy with other things. They wouldn't let me play Quidditch with them because I was too young and a _girl_."

Harry frowned. He liked Ron and his brothers, but it seemed they were a little unfair in their treatment of their sister.

"That's… not very nice," he said carefully.

She shrugged.

"Didn't make any difference, did it?" she asked, winking.

* * *

><p>When Mr Weasley and Percy arrived home that evening, Harry's birthday dinner got underway. Mrs Weasley had baked him an enormous chocolate cake, and Ron had bought him a big box of Chocolate Frogs, so he was more than happy to gorge himself on sugar for the remainder of the evening. Hermione had, of course, bought him a book, <em>Quidditch Tactics for the Advanced Player<em>. It looked fascinating, and he wished he'd had it the previous year to help make sense of Wood's diagrams. Both Ron and Hermione had worked off their bad humours, and dinner was highly enjoyable, between Sirius gently teasing Percy about working for Mr Crouch and the twins' enthusiastic explanations of their new product ideas. Harry sat and ate, happy to let the conversations flow around him. It had been a good day.

In fact, it had definitely been his best birthday ever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: HERMIONE CAN'T DRAW, HERMIONE CAN'T DRAW, HERMIONE CANNOT DRAW! **

**Ahem…**

**Right, big thanks to Mu-Nition for helping me break my **_**Second War**_**-related writer's block, and for suggesting the circumstances of Ginny's first real conversation with Harry. Sorry for the delay, this is a hard story to write because of the density of the plot, and I have **_**sooooooo**_** many challenges to do!**

**How does Ron know what a PR Officer is? The Ministry have them. In this fic, anyway.  
><strong>

**I haven't forgotten about the mystery of Hermione's Boggart, but that one's going to be a long-runner :P**


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